


Chilled Chocolate Pudding

by Ivyfics (ivannab)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hajime is sick but still manages to get boned, Hurt/Comfort, I think?, Kinktober, M/M, Sickfic, Temperature Play, domestic as fuck, look at these assholes being adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivannab/pseuds/Ivyfics
Summary: He can count the number of times he's woken up alone when he's sick with one hand after that one time his parents were out of town for the week and Tooru found him crying in his bedroom.A sick Hajime is a clingy one and he finds no shame in it. Not anymore.Kinktober # 2: Temperature play





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's already the third where I am and I have a sinking feeling there will be no internet tomorrow, so I'm posting this a tad early. 
> 
> The way the human body works in this fic is shoddy at best so don’t look too deep into it. Some people like to pretend Tooru doesn’t take care of Iwa as much as Iwa takes care of him. That’s crap.

Hajime’s not feeling so good. He’s a little too hot, sweating a little too much.

It’s not bad but it’s enough that he decides to take the rest of the day off, first lecture of the day already under his belt, strength waning from before he even entered the lecture hall. It was World History and he paid almost no attention to it. He’s going to have to borrow someone’s notes later, but he’s home now so nothing else matters at the moment. Eating is something he should do but a glance at the kitchen has any motivation of feeding himself sinking, so he downs some water and heads off to the bedroom.

The apartment is silent and still, just the way he left it, the dirty dishes from when he and Tooru sat down for breakfast mocking him from the sink. The afterimage of Tooru soft with sleep, dragging himself into the corner they use as their eating area while Hajime made them both breakfast is far more interesting than any of their clutter.

They left everything a mess. It’s strangely comforting, seeing their—mostly Tooru’s—things all scattered about, down to the crumpled sheets that stopped being warm when they untangled from them early in the morning and the single pineapple sock peeking from under the bed.  

Unlike Tooru, Hajime doesn’t deny he’s sick until the last possible moment. He accepts it. Becomes one with the knowledge he's going to be uncomfortable for some time to come.

Hajime knows he has to rest, it's number one on his list of things to do after he's crossed off escaping the confines of an overly stuffy lecture hall before noon. He doesn't have enough energy to change out of his clothes after spending the last of his strength on getting home while he's still coherent. Hajime doesn't get sick often, but every once in a while he'll get hit with a sudden fever. It's been happening since he was a kid for no reason any doctor could tell and years of dealing with it have taught him that the best way to deal with them is to find a comfortable, well-ventilated place to lounge and to make sure he stays hydrated. 

He dumps himself into their bed as is. Jeans aren’t the most comfortable attire to lounge around but he’ll take it over moving an inch. A sudden wave of grogginess hits him and he knows he's fighting a losing battle with sleep, one that will end with him waking up in a couple of hours, sweaty and disgusting. However, that's a problem for future Hajime, so for now there's a chill he chases away by tossing one of their bulkiest blankets atop his form carelessly. 

Picking up his phone from his back pocket, he sends off a text.

> _ >U coming home later? _

> _Iwa-chan <3<3<3<3< _
> 
> _Yea, around 7 < _
> 
> _Got a couple of lectures < _
> 
> _Something up? < _

Seven’s not that bad. He’ll just take a long nap and wait for Tooru to come home with food.

> _ >Just checking in _
> 
> _ >Bring dinner _

He’s halfway to putting the phone on the nightstand when he gets hit with a wave of loneliness. Ah fuck, he really wants to see Tooru. Great. It’s begun.

Not wanting to pull Tooru away from his day but still wanting to say something, he does the next best thing.  

> _ >I’ll be waiting _
> 
> _ > <3 _

* * *

His neck is sweltering but there’s a feather-light run of fingers through his hair so Hajime is torn between feeling like absolute garbage and immensely relieved. He’s gonna settle for both, relief going stronger. Hajime slurs his way through consciousness, tongue awkward in his mouth. "Tooru?"

"Hmm."

Eyes slanting open, the clock on the nightstand shows it’s two in the afternoon. Hajime went to sleep at eleven when it was overcast and cool, very different to the strong golden rays hitting the bed in staccato beams. His voice is croaky from sleep and dry from the fever when he said, "You're home. What about your lecture?"

Tooru’s light laugh sinks into him, cool fingers running over the side of his face before restarting their trek on his scalp. "Silly Iwa-chan. Like I'm going to leave you here by yourself."

The thick blanket he’d gone to sleep under is folded neatly by the foot of the bed—along with the hoodie he was wearing—and it’s been replaced by a smaller, much lighter one, draped only around his middle. That and the extra body heat from Tooru’s body leaning on his are enough to work him up to a light sweat. He's grateful, so grateful that he doesn't have to wake up to soaking sheets and an empty bed. Instead, he can curl around Tooru and steal the coolness from the bits not leaning on Hajime.

Hajime's a little overwhelmed over the fact that Tooru is _here,_ that he could see right through his bullshit, drop everything and come home to make sure Hajime doesn't wake up alone, and his eyes begin to sting. He can count the number of times he's woken up alone when he's sick with one hand after that one time his parents were out of town for the week and Tooru found him crying in his bedroom.

A sick Hajime is a clingy one and he finds no shame in it. Not anymore, not after a teenage Tooru very kindly but firmly smacked him with a pillow and said _'cry your heart out, Iwa-chan.'_ Besides, it's like Tooru has the superpower to know exactly when Hajime's going to be sick and manages to make everything suck a little less.

"Let's get you out of those clothes and into something fresh."

Burying his face in Tooru's chest, weak arms tighten around him. Sweat and heat are sticking to his skin in an unpleasant way so changing is the next thing on the list but he doesn’t want to let go just yet. Tooru knows, and he doesn’t push immediately but runs his hands down the curve of Hajime’s spine, tracing the divot back and forth."Is it a cold? Is your nose runny?"

Hajime mumbles into his chest, eyes shut. "Fever."

"Only fever? No nausea, or a headache?"

His head shakes as much as he can, ending up in it being Hajime rubbing his face all over Tooru’s cotton-clad chest. When he left this morning he was definitely not wearing pajamas so he’s been here long enough to change into something comfortable and slip into bed next to Hajime to wait for him to wake up on his own. "Iwa-chan, we can cuddle all day after you change out of your clothes. If it's only the fever then get naked."

Hajime pulls ways reluctantly, pout on his face and starts the battle of getting his clothes off while staying horizontal. Tooru leaves their bed, stopping only to rifle through their first aid kit, pulling out a thermometer and handing it to him before heading to the kitchen. "Here, use this. I'll go get something to drink."

The battle against his clothes is one that he loses. Reluctantly, he gets up to kick off his jeans and his boxers on the same tug until he’s standing in the middle of their room, naked as the day he was born, thermometer sticking out of his mouth. His fever is high, but not high enough that he needs to go to the hospital or anything, so that’s one less thing to worry about.

When he’s been alone long enough that he heads off to look for Tooru, he finds him setting up cushions and a blanket on the couch. His hair is mussed from where he was laying on the pillow next to Hajime, his socks don’t match (one is the pair to the pineapple one still peeking from under the bed and the other has tiny pink snails,) and he’s wearing his _Jesus was an alien_ shirt.

Hajime really, really wants to kiss Tooru right now. And have him give Hajime the biggest hug. But, if there is one thing he doesn’t want if for Tooru to get whatever it is that he has so he abstains, choosing to pout and mentally go off. There’s a plastic bag on the table next to the couch and Tooru reaches for it when he sees Hajime walk in, his nakedness not earning him even a blink. That’s what happens when you live together long enough. Pulling on the bag, he says, "There's blue and green. Which one?"

"Green."

Tooru dunks his hand in the bag, fishing out an electric-green bottle, setting the sports drink on the table and putting the rest on a cooler on the floor by the couch. “Move here while I change the sheets, then we can have lunch.”

Hajime’s about to trudge over the couch when Tooru stops him.

“Hey there, aren’t you forgetting something Mr.Frown?” When Hajime looks at him as lost as he feels, Tooru’s face falls into a pout big enough to rival his own. “I don’t get a kiss hello? Rude. Just because you’re sick it doesn't—”

Hajime gets the hug, and the kiss, and he gets Tooru, letting him cling as much as he likes before he’s ready to let go.

* * *

His fever peaked a couple of hours ago. It was shitty.

Tooru’s been pouring liquids into him, brushing his hair, making sure Hajime had something to eat so that he isn’t weak, lets him take a nap with his head pillowed on his lap even though the back of Hajime’s head must feel like a million degrees.

They move back to the room, fresh sheets feeling like heaven.

Tooru’s a fucking angel.

Every time something like this happens he's reminded of how he's been sure Tooru is it for him since he was sixteen.

It's not something you say out loud because what the fuck does a sixteen year old know anyway, right?

But Hajime knows.

It's in the way Tooru only brushes the strands of hair off his forehead in one particular direction because that's the one that feels the best. How last time Hajime got sick, months and months ago, he said in passing  that he wanted some blue Gatorade instead of the green one he always picked and, without a doubt, now he's got a choice of either cooling in the fridge.  
  
Or when Tooru is the one who’s shivering and wrapped in blankets and the only thing in Hajime’s mind is to make sure he’s comfortable as possible, to be able to do as much as he can so that while Tooru heals things aren’t as bad.

Sixteen year-old Hajime was dumb about a lot of things, but that is not of them.

* * *

 

There's something else along the feverish current undertaking his body, a burning in his gut, a tingle skipping along underneath his skin. He squirms until he notices that his cock is hard and all he's doing is rubbing into the clean sheets.

He doesn’t know why but there’s something about him when he’s sick. Whenever he gets a fever, it sucks at first but then he reaches a point where he’s just _hot_ and wants a cock in him.

"Tooru."

  
Tooru’s head snaps up from where he’s on his phone reading something for class, hair following the motion. He _knows_ that tone, reacts instantly to it. "Hajime..."

Fingers stretch out to beck Tooru to him without thought, and then Tooru’s hand is firmly grasped in his. Hajime pulls it closer, lays it on his skin. Brings his hand to rub on his cock, twining their fingers together, leads them to where his balls are tight. "Want you."

Tooru doesn’t spring into action right away.

He asks, every time, no matter how many times they’ve done this before, or how much clear headed Hajime tells him that he _is_ thinking straight and all he wants is to have Tooru connected to him. "You sure?"

"Tooru, please? Please. Fever's not as bad but I'm so hard," Hajime licks his lips, eyes half-lidded, "can you feel that?"

Tooru’s mouth kicks up, humors him, like the twitching of his cock isn’t completely obvious when Hajime’s using his hand to rub off. "Yeah."

A shiver climbs up his spine, makes his thigh tremble."Take care of me?"

"I always do. Want me inside?"

Hajime nods. Throws his head back against the pillow. "Want you deep."

On a usual day saying something like that would get him face down, ass up and Tooru pounding into him from behind.

Sure enough, Tooru’s eyes darken, pupil dilating. "I'm..." He shakes his head, trying to clear the image of Hajime willing and hot and _there_ to focus. Pulls his hand away. "Gonna go get stuff."

“Don’t take long.”

He doesn’t. Hajime too focused on stroking himself with one hand, the other thrown over his eyes to bother asking what he went to get. Tooru’s knee settles between his legs on the bed and Hajime spreads himself wider on instinct, hand still working himself slowly. It’s not enough to get him off, just enough so that he’s no squirming and itchy.

It gets him a pleased hum from Tooru so he spreads them a little more, putting himself on display. Maybe that way Tooru will hurry the fuck up.

Tooru leans above him, kissing his chest, then his collarbone, up to his mouth. Hajime meets him eagerly but soft, hot breaths mingling.

"Not worried you're gonna catch it?"

Tooru speaks in between pecks, amused. "M'gonna catch it anyways, rather kiss you while I do it."

It’s not enough, not even close, and Hajime whines as much into Tooru’s mouth, asks him to _please for fuck’s sake get on with it_ –

It earns him a laugh and a couple of lubed fingers so it gets the job done, at least. Tooru likes playing with him, stretching him slowly, teasingly.  

He doesn’t this time but goes straight in as much as he can, steady,  spreading his fingers as wide as they can go as they scrape against walls of muscle.

“How the fuck? Every time,” Tooru mutters, eyes looking up. “You’re so loose. Do I even need to stretch you out?”

Fever Hajime has a hair trigger, one more scissoring motion and he’s coming, weak, cock jumping limply while staining his thigh with a pathetic amount of cum. It’s not enough, and he keeps trying to ride Tooru’s fingers inside him. "Tooru. C’mon."

Tooru springs back up to kiss him one last time before reaching for a condom. “On your side, Hajime.”

Soon enough Tooru’s pressing his chest to Hajime’s back, pulling his leg up to lay on his hip. He slides home easy, slow, making sure Hajime feels all of it.

Teeth pinch the skin of his neck, Tooru’s panting and holding himself still. "Fuck, I'm gonna melt. So fucking hot,” he groans.

No shit. Hajime was already on the edge but this was fanning the flames, and Tooru _is not moving._

He’s deathly still, his harsh breathing deafening to Hajime’s ears.

"Babe, move."

“Trying not to come,” Tooru chuckles, strangled. “Not gonna last long.”

“Don’t care, just give it to me.”

“Fuckin’—”Tooru shivers, starts pressing forward at a snail’s pace, driving Hajime up the wall—”so eager for cock, Hajime. Wanted it deep, yeah?”

“Yeeeess,” hisses out of him, Tooru buried inside him as far as he can go. Hajime’s dick is fatter but Tooru’s is longer. It’s a match made in heaven because while Tooru goes wild being stretched out by Hajime’s cock, Hajime loves how deep Tooru can reach inside him.

Tooru’s arms squirms to wrap around him, holding him close.

On his side with Tooru's arm around him, fingers splayed on his chest, head laid on the pillow and arm thrown about, he's drooling. Beyond the fact that Tooru is grinding into him mean, his mind shuts off. Mouth open, eyes closed.  
  
Tooru was wrong, Hajime is the one melting.

Flushed skin all over, ears tipped red, eyes watering.

_Ain’t got no bones in my body._

The fever is an all present heat, it sinks behind his eyes and makes him loose and limber, not caring that Tooru is holding his entire weight, or how much his moans are turning into keens, how he whines when Tooru slows down completely inside him only to make him feel how deep he is, quelling that fire that burning him from the inside.

He's spread wide, one leg over Tooru's hip, the cool print of where it's being held open on the hook of Tooru’s elbow feeling like a brand even if he's the one that’s burning. Tooru makes sure to keep him uncovered, spread, open, so that he doesn't overheat and has to stop.

It's all fancy words and shit but when it comes down to it Tooru knows that if Hajime has to stop getting dicked because his body temperature skyrocketed, he's gonna cry.

Skin sensitive, bordering on painful, he feels every point of contact like a jolt.

His mouth is hot and so is his ass and Tooru feels good, so good, cool on his skin. He loves it, how he’s getting it slow and deep, cock grinding into him and moaning and groaning at the temp, every now and again pulling out to let his cock cool and to kiss and lick Hajime’s back.

Then Tooru's coming, hips jerking where they're pressed against his ass. The arm wrapped around him tightens, crushing them together. Tooru’s breath is hitting his shoulder where he’s pressing his forehead and when he’s done riding out the waves, Hajime taps his hand to get him to look, twists and takes his mouth.

It’s more shared panting than anything, and there’s a string of drool still on his face from where it was spilling on the pillow and neither he nor Tooru care one bit.

Tooru takes his time pulling out, giving out a couple of grinds before he's sitting up, throwing the condom in the trash and leaving the bed.

Hajime's feeling good right now. So good.

It’s hot but it's started to die down, so he lays on the sheets, cooling off. He’s still hard but he doesn’t find it worth the effort of palming himself, so he’ll deal with that later.

Hajime jolts at Tooru pushing his shoulder, chest pillowed on the mattress. An icy sensation hits his back, and oh, that's what Tooru went to get.

Spots of cold bloom where the washcloth drips before it’s swiping over his muscles, Hajime moaning when it hits new skin. Burning from the raging fire inside of him, hot from where Tooru was pressed to him skin to skin, every pass of cool water is lulling the burn, anchoring him to the hands that trail after the calm, kneading, caressing, not losing contact. His thighs are swiped cold, running up to the bottom of his cheeks and Hajime moans a little broken because Tooru’s hands follow, spreading him.

Hajime wiggles a bit.

Sticks his hips out more until Tooru stops teasing and plays with him some more where’s he’s stretched and loose. “Don’t worry Iwa-chan, we’re not done yet. You haven’t come, right?”

He has but that’s not what Tooru means so he’s not gonna fight him on it. Instead, he reaches back to push Tooru’s hand against him harder, to get inside him again.

Hajime whines when Tooru pulls away, head turning to see why he stopped, when there’s a hand gripping his arm and guiding him to turn over on his back. He lets himself go pliant.

Hajime’s front gets the same treatment as his back, Tooru working his legs, thighs, arms, chest, dipping it in the cold water every so often before coming back in. His cock is jutting up, laying on his thigh and Tooru goes around it, saving it for last, but instead of using the washcloth he licks a stripe up the side instead.

It twitches eagerly and Tooru wastes no time to get into it, pulling on Hajime’s knee again but to hook it over his shoulder this time. Fingers find his hole again, and paired with Tooru’s mouth it takes absolutely no time until he’s squeezing around them, Tooru’s tongue on his dick wringing Hajime’s orgasm from him.

It’s like falling into the void.

He’s boneless for good this time.

No bringing him back to the world of the living.

Except Tooru does, dragging him back to awareness, soft touch on his cheek making him blink his eyes open from where they had fallen shut.

"How are you feeling?”

"Good."

Jaw slack it comes out as more of a groaned _‘ooooooood_.

Hajime is too fucked out to care.

Tooru chuckles, coming back to lay down next to him on his side. He's keeping this gap between them, probably for something like not adding on his body heat or something but Hajime is not having it.

Tooru's wrist gets caught in his grip. "C'mere."

“Give me a second. I’ll be right back, Iwa-chan.”

“You keep fucking leaving,” Hajime huffs, but lets him go.

Tooru doesn’t look back and Hajime rests his eyes, dead to the world for a while until the door creaks. Cracks his eyes open when he feels the bed dip under Tooru’s weight

It’s set in front of him on the bed, Tooru’s arm helping him sit up before handing it to him directly. Chilled chocolate pudding.

Yeah, Tooru’s the one.

“What’s that?”

He said that out loud?

Oh, well.

“You take care of me. You feed me, you fuck me,” he brings a spoonful to his mouth, eyes closing briefly at the taste, “you bring me chocolate pudding.” Hajime sighs, content. “You’re the one, babe.”

Tooru’s laugh chokes out of him and he shakes his head like it’s another joke, the regular banter they spring off each other, but there’s a rosy glow to his cheeks that’s not the orgasm they just shared and a happy crinkling in his eyes that might just be that he feels the same.

“Finally, Iwa-chan will make an honest man out of me.”

Hajime snorts. “I said you’re the one, not that I’m a miracle worker.”

An outraged gasp pulls from Tooru, eyes narrowing in Hajime’s direction. “I’m gonna let that one go because you’re sick and all afterglowy, but the second you’re better,” he steals Hajime spoon, bringing it up to his lips. “Revenge.”

  
  



	2. On the Flipside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru's sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure fluff. This chapter is a no-dick zone. 
> 
> It's pretty old but I wanted to have these two together. Think of it as a tiny bonus.

“Oikawa. Get back in bed.”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“No, no, no! No, Iwa-chan, you know why? Because the bed is for sick people and I,—” Tooru brings his hand to his chest in a big motion, sniffling—“the great Oikawa Tooru, am not sick.”

Pretty convincing speech, if Tooru’s face wasn’t the shade of a lobster and the end of his sentence wasn’t sealed by a racking cough.

Tooru carries on, pretending nothing happened. He stumbles to the entrance where Hajime is standing. It’s more like he’s keeping guard. This is Hour Zero of Tooru being sick, a crucial moment. If left unsupervised Tooru will go out into the world trying to pretend like he’s fine.

The one time he slipped by Hajime’s watchful eye he got a call about two hours later, Tooru feverish and on the verge of tears. It was unpleasant for everyone involved and Hajime's not keen on seeing Tooru cry while attending one of his classes. 

Tooru stands facing him, trying to see where he can sneak by Hajime to get to his shoes. “There’s this really interesting lecture with Dr. Ryoji today and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Really? You really don’t want to miss it,” Hajime drawls on, “too bad, I already said you weren’t attending. Sorry.”

“Hajime, how dare you—” Tooru is interrupted by another bout of coughing, wet and rough, making him double over and grab at the wall to keep steady. It sounds awful. He sounds awful, it makes Hajime’s chest tighten. It’s painful enough that it has Oikawa clutching at his throat trying to swallow and breathe normally. His voice is scratchy, and the flush is high on his cheeks.

Shiny eyes look at Hajime, and in the smallest voice, “Iwa-chan, I think I’m sick.”

Hour Zero, meet Sick Tooru.

Hajime walks up to him, reaches out to rub on his back. He can’t help himself, he deadpans, “Gee, Tooru, I think so too. It’s almost like I’ve been trying to get you to rest for the past hour.”

“Don’t be mean,” Tooru whines, body turning to hunch itself into Hajime’s, long frame trying to bend into a cradle.

“Stop pretending you shouldn’t be under a mountain of blankets and high on cough syrup and maybe I won’t.”

“Fine. I’m going to go to bed then.” He says it with finality, arms coming to wrap around Hajime’s middle. What he really means is he’s going to drape over Hajime and become dead weight while he’s dragged into bed, not moving a muscle meanwhile.

He’s limp as a noodle, every gigantor inch of him.

That holds until he’s back in the bedroom, which he has been avoiding at all costs, and takes a glimpse at their bed.

Tooru perks up, looking between the bed and Hajime. “Hajime. You?”

“Told you. Mountain of blankets.”

That really is the best way to describe it. Hajime brought in some chairs, put that engineering classes to use and built them the best, most greatest, fluffiest blanket fort. It’s stuffed full of the couch cushions and every decorative pillow they own.

It says much to how out of it Tooru is that he didn’t notice Hajime puttering about.

“Hajime, you’re the best.”

Tooru unlatches himself from Hajime to crawl inside. “I really didn’t want to go to the lecture with Dr. Ryoji. He’s so boring. He’s like three hundred years old and he pauses as much between each sentence.”

“I know, you told me.”

“Last time I–

“You fell asleep and 'Kimiko-chan' had to wake you up before the lecture ended.” Hajime throws a pillow at him, along with a pair of sweatpants. “Who do you take me for? I listen to you.”

“Hajime,” Tooru whines again, “I love you.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m really sick. My throat hurts a lot.”

That’s Tooru speak for ‘change me out of my jeans,’ so Hajime does, pulling on them from the edge of the bed and folding them neatly while Tooru wiggles on the sweatpants.

Tooru looks at him from under his lashes, bites his lip and mutters, “are you staying?”

What, Hajime’s going to leave?

While Tooru is sick? After he built this? And be hit with _the_ Oikawa Tooru puppy eyes?

Fuck no.

Hajime crawls in, settles as the big spoon. Brushes back Tooru’s bangs and lays a kiss on his forehead. “Fort’s big enough for two, isn’t it?”

Tooru is rubbing his face on his chest, settling in. Hajime sighs. “Oi, don’t wipe your snot on my shirt.”

“Iwa-chan is the best tissue.”

“Fucking, Tooru—”

“The best in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can come yell at me on:  
> [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)  
> [Tumblr ](http://ivyfics.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> You can come yell at me on:  
> [Twitter ](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)  
> [NSFW Twitter](https://twitter.com/lilacsparklr)  
> [Tumblr ](http://ivyfics.tumblr.com/)


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